Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
After the party, San Diego
Tate threw his head back and it fell off the edge of the mattress, but it didn’t slow Pilot’s thrusts. He didn’t break his stride in the slightest. Tate wrapped his legs around Pilot’s waist, so he wouldn’t keep sliding forward. He didn’t like the idea of landing on the hotel floor.
The pounding rhythm continued, the heat building into an inferno.
Sweat dripped down from Pilot’s neck and Tate’s hands grasped at the sheets.
His shoulders slid down to the edge of the bed, and he thought for a moment he might fall off, but Tate did not want to stop.
Pilot gazed at Tate with heat and want in his eyes, and Tate knew Pilot didn’t want to stop either, but he did stop.
Pilot reached under Tate and wrapped his arms around Tate’s hips, hauling him back to the middle of the bed, shifting them to a more parallel position.
With a grunt, Pilot’s cock slipped out and he lined it back up.
As he pushed back in, Tate let out a sigh.
He needed to feel Pilot inside him, connecting them like nothing else in the world could.
Pilot canted his hips, finding a better angle that brushed across Tate’s prostate with every thrust. Tate gasped with the first stroke and then his voice broke into a low moan that came from the back of his throat, his gut, and his soul, simultaneously.
A warm slick hand grabbed his cock, bringing Tate back to the moment, but only for a second. His orgasm knocked the wind out of him and all he could see was a field of shiny stars, as his eyes rolled back in his head.
Then Pilot grunted and his whole body went rigid. “Damn! God!” he called out with a series of grunts. He collapsed with his own sigh, right on top of Tate.
“Uh! You brute. You’re too heavy. Get off,” Tate teased. Pilot responded by leaning more into Tate’s chest and tickling his sides. Their laughter broke the serious tone that Tate had felt only moments before in the best possible way.
“Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.”
They both jumped in a quick shower and then toweled off before getting back in bed. Tate considered all the snuggling up together a huge bonus. He had no idea he would love all this cuddly shit so much, but he did. “I’m not sleepy yet. Are you?”
“Nah.”
“Cool.”
Pilot tugged at Tate’s blond hair. “Hey! I saw how you were looking at that boy.”
“Huh? What boy?”
Pilot’s body shook with laughter that he barely held back. It took him a minute to get it under control. “That kid, Bryce. I know you have a crush on him. Admit it.”
Tate didn’t say anything for a minute. He leaned up and looked at Pilot, trying to determine his level of seriousness.
“Come on New York! Admit it.”
“New York?”
Pilot pulled Tate back down against him, so he could rest against Pilot’s warm shoulder. “Yeah, because you think you’re slick or something. You forget I know you, babe.”
“Okay...Well, Bryce is adorable. Don’t you think?”
“Yep. He’s cute, New York.”
Tate shoved at Pilot, but he didn’t budge, just tightened his arms more. “You know I’m from North Carolina, right?”
“Oh? Didn’t you live in New York?”
“Well, yeah. But, I’m not from there. Just ended up there.”
“How’d that happen?”
In the quiet of the room Tate could hear the outside traffic and feel Pilot’s heartbeat.
He felt safe, protected, in Pilot’s arms. “Well, my parents were rednecks really. They had me on a dirt bike before I was three. Back in the woods, it was just what we did. I rode four wheelers and big trucks and dirt bikes before I ever got a driver’s license. ”
“I don’t know what that’s like. Did you like it?”
“When I was young I did. We hunted and fished and hung out in the woods. Just being a kid. I thought my dad was the greatest. Then he realized I was really good on a dirt bike and started putting me in competitions when I was about 10. I won a lot. Everything was cool, like I had the best life a kid could want.”
When he paused, Pilot asked, “So how’d you get to New York? What happened?”
“Yeah, guess...same old story for a gay kid. By the time I hit 13, puberty reared its ugly head, and I started getting a little boy crazy.”
“A little boy crazy?” Pilot asked with a teasing gleam in his eye.
“Okay, a lot boy crazy. I was in love with ever other racer on the dirt.” Tate laughed. “But then there was this one guy. Chester.”
“Chester?”
“Yeah, don't laugh. I know. But, he was really cute and had all these freckles all over his nose and under his eyes.
And his lips were pouty and I wanted to kiss him every time I saw him.
He was like a friend of the family, and we hung out a lot and he loved the dirt bikes.
So, like, when I was almost seventeen, we were riding.
I was smearing his ass all over the dirt.
Hell, I'd already met Oz and he was signing me to the 250 division, and I'd already been racing Arenacross. And winning. Ha! I thought I was hot shit back then. You know how it is. Almost seventeen at the time. I thought I was invincible.”
“Chester had no chance with you, Hot stuff.”
“Ha! Right. So, I finally stopped and let him catch up. We took off our helmets and just grinned at each other like a couple of happy fools. I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed his arm and pulled him closer and laid one on him.”
“Did he punch you?”
“No. But he did say he wasn't interested. He said he liked me, but he liked Mary Beth more.”
“So, he was bi? But not hot for you?” Tate smacked Pilot with his pillow and he retaliated by pulling Tate closer and snuggling his nose into Tate's neck. “Go on.”
“I don't know what he was. I never saw him again, anyway. Uh, this is where everything really starts to suck.”
“I like sucking,” Pilot joked, obviously trying to keep the mood light.
Tate had never really talked about this much, even to Oz, but he felt Pilot should know. “My mom saw the whole thing. Well, the kiss anyway. She'd come out to the track for some reason, but I didn't know. So, when I got home she told me to cut that shit out. Asked what the hell was wrong with me.”
“What'd you say?”
“I told her nothing was wrong with me, I just kind of liked guys.” Tate paused and took a deep breath.
Pilot held him and rubbed his nose up and down Tate's throat, letting him know he was loved.
“My mom said that my dad would beat the shit out of me if he saw me kissing boys.
I didn't have anything to say to that. You know?
It's like stop being who you are, or your dad, who is supposed to love you unconditionally, will physically hurt you.
I was being punished for something I had no control over.
Well, I mean, I didn't have to go around kissing guys, but I couldn't stop looking at them.
Hell, every sixteen year old boy wants to get laid like he wants to breathe.
Not looking at guys was like telling my heart not to beat. It just wasn't going to happen.”
Pilot shifted, pulling Tate around with him until they were situated with Pilot’s arm around Tate's shoulders and Tate snuggled up against his muscular chest. He stroked Tate's arm with his other hand. “Go on.”
“So, we didn't talk for a few days. I was hoping it would just blow over, but then, well, it was off season, so I spent most of my time on the dirt. My neighbor let us use the back of his property to build a small track. Up until the kiss, Chester would come almost every day to ride with me, at least for part of the day. But, after that I was alone. He didn’t come out to ride again, but it didn't really matter to me. You know how I am. I put everything out there. In the dirt. So, I had a decent few runs around the track and headed home to grab some lunch.”
Tate sat up in the bed and looked down at Pilot.
His dark eyes held love and sympathy, but no pity.
Tate was pretty sure that wouldn't change, even after his story.
Pilot already knew the ultimate outcome, so he took another breath and kept going.
“I don't know what I was thinking about.
I remember that the sun was shining and birds were singing and I was sweating and the red dirt smelled like heaven.
For that moment, I was just a kid with a decent, happy life.
Yeah, I wanted a boyfriend and I wanted my parents to be cool about it, but it didn't really define me.
I didn't know who I really was or who I wanted to be, but I knew it would be okay as long as I could keep racing.
I guess that was a good thought to hold onto, 'cause when I got to the house, my mom had packed all of my shit into a few suitcases and brown boxes and had them sitting on the front porch.”
Pilot sat up. “What?”
“Yeah. She, uh, had called Oz and told him to come get me.”
“Just like that?”
Tate shrugged and sniffled. He didn't want to cry about this old bullshit. Pilot pulled him into his arms again and Tate settled between his legs.
“You know? It was hard. That hurt. They suddenly didn’t like me anymore because of this one thing. It was like, 'Oh, I realize now that you have blond hair and we don't like blond hair.' That's how it felt. Maybe being gay is not as obvious a thing, but still.”
They sat silently for a few minutes before Tate felt strong enough to keep talking.
“She said that she had finally told my dad and he went nuts and if I wasn't gone before he got home from work, he'd probably kill me.
So, even though she loved me enough to kick me out of the house, she didn't love me enough to stand up to him.
Or maybe she was just using that as an excuse. I don't know.”
“What happened?”
“A few hours later, Oz showed up with a truck, you know, one of them U-Haul trucks.
He loaded my shit and my bike and gear in the back, loaded me in the front and drove off.
I didn't even clean up or take a shower.
I rode in my dirty gear the rest of the day.
A lot of what happened after that was a blur.
Oz made sure I got what I needed. Food. Clothes.
He made sure I finished high school. He got a tutor and set everything up.
He made me study when I wasn't working out or riding.”
“He sounds like a good man.”
“Yeah. He's been more of a parent to me than they ever really were.
You know? Looking back on it. My dad thought it was cool that his boy was into dirt bikes and shit.
It was manly. I seemed like a real boy-boy, playing in the dirt.
But, he didn't really show any other concern for me.
Mom just wanted me out of the house. They had already let Oz take over my schedule and seemed pretty happy they didn't have to deal with it.
So, I'm pretty sure they sucked all the way around.
If I hadn't been so into motocross, I'm not sure I would have survived into adulthood with those two.” Tate laughed, but it didn't sound very humorous.
He couldn't find much humor in the situation, even now.
The pain of being rejected by his parents still sliced through his heart, making an open wound that just never completely healed.
“That explains a lot about Oz. I thought he was unreasonably overprotective, but he really has been your papa bear.”
“Don't say it like that.” Tate swatted Pilot's arm.
“But, yeah. He's been more than just a manager to me. So, yeah, I listen to him. Most of the time. He took me in at sixteen. Who wants to take in a hormonal teenager? That's like saying you enjoy hemorrhoids or screws being drilled into your head.” Tate laughed for real this time. He’d had plenty of good times with Oz, good memories, and a new appreciation for what he'd put the man through.
“I haven't been easy on him, that's for sure.”
“He's been good for you.”
“I don't know. We made the best of a bad situation. He's pretty cool though. He lets me make mistakes and he's always there when I fall. He's the only one who's ever really been there.”
Pilot tightened his grip and kissed Tate on the top of the head. “I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere.”
“Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. Just keep loving me and we'll make everything work out. I love you, Tate.”