Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
November, Denver
Pilot slid his soapy hand over his cock.
His shoulders pressed against the cold tiles of his shower.
He needed relief. He'd never jacked off so much in his entire life.
Thinking about Tate had him going crazy—sex crazy.
He suspected something else was behind it, though.
He wanted more than the great sex they'd had.
It really had been so exceedingly hot, but the cuddling in between and the crushing weight on his chest when he left proved it.
He wanted a relationship, a companion to share things with.
He wanted Tate every way humanly possible.
The perfect place for his hands was on Tate's body.
But they weren't there. Nope. They were in Denver, in this shower, stroking his own cock that seemed to have a mind of its own, and its thoughts were all about Tate.
He focused on imagining what he'd do if Tate was with him.
He'd push the man against the wall and lift his hips as he fucked him, pumping in and out of that tight little hole.
Tate had a way of clenching his sphincter that made Pilot's head explode.
He tightened his grip and stroked faster until his shoulders came off the wall and he shot out all over his fixtures.
He grabbed the handheld shower head to rinse himself and the shower walls before finally getting out.
He seemed to have started every day since they'd parted this same way, getting off to thoughts of Tate.
He knew Tate was at Davey's place, so he was safe and secure.
He'd also texted one of their managers, Angel, to check on things.
He needed to know Tate wouldn't be spending Thanksgiving alone.
She'd confirmed they were having a huge gathering at Davey's cousin's place and that Tate had been included in that.
Then she promptly invited him. He turned her down and asked her not to mention it to Tate. He trusted she wouldn't.
He wanted to jump on a plane and fly straight to New Mexico, but he couldn't. He had to spend Thanksgiving with Uncle Gary and Johnny.
What he had to be most thankful for was that he got a pass from his own family this year.
His parents were eating with friends and his sister's family went out of town.
The only other family was his dickhead brother and Pilot just couldn't bring himself to care what Colin would be doing.
After dressing in jeans, an American Eagle t-shirt with a denim button up over it and his old combat boots, he grabbed his leather jacket and his keys and headed over to Uncle Gary's house.
There was no getting out of it, but honestly, the only thing that would make him want to get out of it would be spending the day with Tate.
He shoved that thought down hard. It wasn't happening.
Maybe it made him an asshole, but pursuing Tate could not end well.
Uncle Gary had hired the best lawyer, and they'd managed to postpone the court day for his bogus assault charges.
Everyone felt confident that it would either be dropped or end in a fine.
Hopefully, before he had to appear in court, sometime in January or February.
He needed that to be the case. He had to be in Anaheim in January and it would take an act of God or death to stop him from getting there.
His motivation had nothing to do with the job, as much as he liked the gig and liked his clients.
Nope. His passion was all about seeing Tate.
Johnny greeted him at the door and let him in with a half hug and back pat.
Pilot felt comfortable here. This was the best part of his family.
He wondered if Tate would fit in with them.
He wondered why he even considered that question, but he didn't stop thinking about it.
All through dinner and on to pie, Tate was his constant companion in his mind. It was unsatisfying. He wanted more.
“Why the scowl?” Johnny asked, sipping his coffee.
“I always scowl.”
Johnny put the mug down on the table. “You're more scowly than usual,” he accused, scooting his chair sideways to look at Pilot.
“Well,” he sighed, not really wanting to have this discussion, but not really being able to get around it either. He figured he'd better at least give Johnny something, and then maybe they could move on. “I met someone at that Supercross event last month and I can't stop thinking about him.”
“What? What the hell? You got a hook up and didn't tell me?”
“He's more than a hookup.”
Johnny punched him in the arm and immediately cradled his hand. “Ouch,” he cried out.
“Told you not to do that, bro.”
“Don't bro me,” he huffed. “More than a hookup? My God Pilot, that makes it worse.”
Pilot got up from the table and crossed the kitchen to pour himself another cup of coffee. He held up the pot silently asking Johnny if he wanted more, but Johnny shook his head. “I want to hear more about your mystery man. Fuck the coffee.”
“Nothing to tell.” Pilot made his way back to the table with his full cup.
“I'd hit you again, if I didn't already know how bad it'd hurt.” He shook his hand. “Fucker. Give! You know I'll get it out of you and don't give me that nothing to tell BS, either.” He mocked Pilot with a sarcastic sing-song voice. “Obviously, there's more to tell.”
“Obviously,” Pilot echoed.
“Give it up.”
“Fine.” Pilot sighed again and rubbed his hand through his hair. It'd started growing back from the buzz he'd given it before, but was still nowhere near as long as Tate's messy blond locks. He loved diving into those golden strands.
“Sean!”
“All right. His name is Tate Jordan.”
“OhmyfuckingGod!”
“What?”
Johnny's mouth hung open and his eyes grew wide. “Tate Jordan? The Tate Jordan? Number 87 Tate Jordan?”
“Since when do you follow Supercross?”
Leaning back, Johnny crossed his arms. “Since you started working for them and Tate Jordan? Yeah, he's hands down the hottest one. Did you see him in his racing outfit?”
“Gear.”
“What?”
“Gear. It's racing gear, not an outfit and yeah.” Pilot couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face, remembering Tate in that sexy-as-hell racing gear. “I peeled him out of it.”
“OhmyfuckingGod!”
“Stop saying that and wipe the drool from your chin.”
Uncle Gary walked back in the room. “What's going on? Don't make me break you two up.”
“Sean has a new boyfriend and didn't tell us.”
“Tattletale.”
They ganged up on him at that point and spent the next hour grilling him about Tate until he'd had enough. “Okay. Fuck you both. I'm leaving.” His words were light, but true.
Uncle Gary stopped him at the door as he put on his jacket.
“Hey, Sean. All kidding aside. This guy sounds nice and if you like him, go for it.
For once in your life find some happiness.
You've had it hard and been too lonely. There's more to life than being a workaholic, crotchety old man like me.”
Pilot leaned in and hugged him. “Thanks, Unc. You've always been too good to me.”
“Remember that when I get these assault charges dropped. Seriously, though, you deserve it. You deserve happiness, too. He'll be welcome here. You know that.”
“Okay.”
He thought about those words all the way home.
Maybe Uncle Gary was right. Maybe he needed to try harder.
He thought about the upcoming holidays and wondered what Christmas would look like for Tate.
He wanted to keep loneliness and cruelty from hurting his man.
His man? Maybe he was getting ahead of himself. But maybe not.