Motorbike

M’neck is sore. Ass doesn’t hurt. Dammit, I didn’t sleep with anyone last night, did I? Alex sat up, wiping sleep from his eyes. No, that’s right. I was trying to get this one guy, but then he decided to go all chivalrous on me and say he didn’t want to get on the wrong fucking side of legality. What the hell? Who the hell cares about staying legal anymore? The bartender served me… He conveniently forgot it had been water, not alcohol.



Ah, whatever. It’s time to get up.



His clothes from the night before were rather disgusting, pasted to his body with his own sweat and whatever muck he’d ended up laying in when he’d been out in the foray with the other crazy three men before the biker came to get him.



What did Ace call the biker? Corbette? Like the car? Huh… Wonder if that’s a first name or a last name. First name would be damn uncomfortable. Hi, what’s your name ? Bob. What’s yours? Corbette. Oh, like the car? Yeah…



He shook off the last dregs of sleep and stretched, feeling a couple of vertebrae pop in his neck when he did. God but that felt good.



As he stretched, he heard a slight creak from the stairs and turned to see Ace coming down them, his body clad entirely in leather.



“What is it with everyone and leather?” he asked, covering a slight yawn. “It seems everyone’s wearing it lately.”



“Fashion, I guess,” Ace answered, walking past Alex to what looked like the kitchen. “You sleep all right?”



“What? Oh, yeah. I’m a little stiff, but whatever.” He stretched again, but this time there was no satisfying popping of joints, much to his disappointment. “What are you doing?”



Ace had disappeared all the way into the kitchen. Alex got up and trailed after him, wondering.



The dancer was eating cereal from a bowl. Alex took a moment to study him, noting in particular how the leather seemed to cling to every part of his body. Maybe that’s why they all wear it, he thought. Damn sexy as hell, and if you’ve got the body for it, why not show it off? I mean, come on! Hot!



He blinked a couple of times and looked around the kitchen. It was a smallish kitchen, mostly because the counter and fridge took up the majority of the space around it, but there was enough room to move around.



“Bowls are in the cabinet over there,” Ace said, nodding with his head towards one of the cabinets hanging on the other side of the room on the wall. Alex nodded and walked over – all three steps – and pulled open the cabinet door, grabbing one of the bowls at random and coming back to look around for whatever cereals Ace had.



“Only Cheerios and Rice Chex,” the dancer apologized – it sounded like an apology anyway. “I don’t like sugar cereals as a general rule, so…” he shrugged.



Alex shrugged too. “Sugar-less cereal won’t kill me,” he pointed out, grabbing the Cheerios and dumping a heap of them into his bowl, pouring a generous dollop of milk on top of that, courtesy of the jug Ace offered him.



The two of them ate standing up, Ace leaning on the kitchen countertop, Alex just standing wide legged in the center of the kitchen, trying not to slurp at the milk. He had limited degrees of success with his mission.



Ace on the other hand, wasn’t trying to be neat at all. He had a few Cheerios of his own on the floor, making themselves at home on the floor with puddles of milk and he wasn’t doing anything about it. Then again, though, if this was his house, he could afford to do something like that.



So far, the kitchen was the only place Alex had seen in Ace’s house that didn’t seem to have a theme. He scrutinized the place, looking to see if he was missing anything, or if since this was the kitchen, it had been regulated to simply being functional. He didn’t feel quite like asking for the answer.



“Food,” Ace answered to his unspoken question.



“What?” he asked, startled.



“The theme of the kitchen is food,” Ace explained. “I could tell you were looking for something, and everyone seems to get stumped on my kitchen theme, so I guessed that was what you were wondering about.” He shrugged, a fluid motion that had Alex watching him with intense interest. “Well, I’ve got to get going. Corbette said he’d be here to pick you up, so wait until he comes. He won’t ring the bell – he just did that to annoy me last night. He’ll just walk right in. Go with him. I bet he has a plan for what to do with you. And then, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, if you’re still interested.”



Alex raised an eyebrow, making sure to take a good look up and down Ace’s leather clad body. “I doubt I would lose interest,” he remarked, trying to make it sound seductive. Instead, he thought to himself it sounded a little too sincere.



Ace nodded. “See you then,” he said and walked out, the leather clinging to his body so tightly – especially in back – that Alex had to wipe a little drool off his mouth after the dancer had left the room.



God damn, but he is hot stuff. I think it might even be worth the wait to get him between the sheets. Between my legs, man.



His mind filled with other such dirty and uncensored thoughts, Alex finished off his own cereal and then put the bowl in the sink. He wondered if he should try to contact Ni. Then, he dismissed the idea.



At midnight, it’ll be two days, and I’ll come banging on Ace’s door if I’m not already here. We can screw around for a bit, fall asleep and then I’ll be going home later that day, so everything’s good. All I need is to find something to do now for the rest of the day. I don’t fancy going back to the clubs. Too much of a chance that someone could take exception to me. And my clubbing clothes are a little… dirty.



He plucked at the slightly greasy clothing on his body. It smelled of sweat and alleyway – which was a mix of stale urine, garbage and who knew what else. He wondered if he’d gotten the chair he’d slept on at all dirty. Maybe I should shower… That thought firmly lodged in his head, Alex went scouting out the nearest bathroom. About a half hour later, feeling slightly cleaner, he made his way back through to the livingroom. Then the doorbell clanged loudly.



I thought he said Corbette wouldn’t ring the bell, Alex mused, moving slowly towards the door, ready to peek out to see who it was. Then the door swung open and Corbette came in, smiling grimly. He caught sight of Alex and swooped forward catching the youth’s arm and hauling him forward.



“Ready?”



“Uh, sure,” Alex managed to get out. He caught sight of two other biker guys dressed in the thick biking leather jackets and pants that were supposed to protect them if they fell off the bike going at high speeds.



“Good. Let’s go.”



One of the men put out a hand like he was going to take Alex, but Corbette snapped at him. “He’s riding with me,” the biker growled, facing down the slightly shorter – but only slightly – man, bristling like a mad dog.



The other biker made what sounded like a sigh of regret and also made a face, both of which Corbette ignored in favor of pulling Alex up over the bike seat in front of him and getting on behind him.



Alex felt a slight rush of adrenaline from the positioning. Dammit, I wish I could see what he looks like – but he never takes off the damn helmet, I bet. Maybe he’s disfigured or something. Would make sense, I guess. Ugly as hell guy being ugly as hell in attitude. Or maybe he really is gorgeous and wants to hide it. I wonder if he’s half as hot as Ace. And what the hell does he have to do with Ace anyway? Gay fuck buddies? Nah – Ace didn’t seem the type.



He laughed at himself for that one. Yeah, didn’t seem the type. I’ve danced a few sets with him grinding against my ass, and I slept overnight at his house downstairs in a chair because this Corbette guy hauled me there. Really good basis for comparison. So, what the fuck is going on?



Both of Corbette’s arms were around Alex, meaning one on each side reaching towards the handlebars. It wasn’t a very concrete prison, but once the bike got moving, Alex knew it would be very effective at keeping him for attempting escape. He had no desire to injure himself with a fall to cement moving a high speeds from a motorbike.



The bike lurched forward, having the effect of pushing Alex backwards against Corbette’s chest. The biker strained forward a little bit, just minutely. It barely registered to Alex’ brain. He was trying to remind his body how to breathe. It was easier if he turned his head sideways slightly so that the air wasn’t being forced down his throat and nose. But, he wanted to look forward! Who was he kidding though? Every time he tried to open his eyes facing forward, they began to water insistently and immediately the visions blurred over so that moving fast was only judge-able by the pace the tarmac moved by at right near the bike wheels.



Then, when he thought they were going as fast as they could, Corbette’s bike kicked it into a new gear and he couldn’t breathe anymore. It was exhilarating, until he realized the little black speckles in his vision wasn’t simply from his watering eyes. He was beginning to run out of air.



What the hell? I thought this kind of thing only happened in movies!



Corbette’s bike made a violent side jerking turn, stopping as it did so, skidding to a complete halt a second or two later. The heavy book came down on one side to catch the bike and its two occupants.



Alex looked up, his eyes widening when he caught sight of where he was. Or, perhaps, more accurately, where he wasn’t. Because he certainly wasn’t in the city anymore. Or even someplace remotely resembling the city.



What the hell?



Corbette got off the bike after kicking down the kickstand and half-jerked, half-pulled Alex after him. Alex considered asking what was going on, but decided against it; his head hadn’t forgotten the heavy hits that the biker could deal out when he was annoyed. Or maybe he doled out blows to questioners anyway.



They were definitely not in the city anymore. Alex stared, taking in the new scene. It was strange, really, how fast the countryside seemed to come up out of nowhere. Had they even been on a highway road at all? He didn’t think he’d been on the bike all that long… Hell, it hadn’t felt like more than a few minutes. And yet, here he was, standing in front of a huge mansion-like building built out of grey stone. A fence of black iron surrounded it. Corbette seemed relatively unconcerned, though the other two men seemed really nervous for some reason.



The biker walked up to the gates and pushed a button on them, backing up a bit when a woman’s sharp voice asked, “Who is this?” Then, “Oh, Remington. What a – pleasant – surprise.”



From the tone of her voice, Alex could easily deduce it was nothing of the sort. He smirked a bit and earned himself another cuff – though much more lightly than from Corbette – from one of the other two bikers.



“So you haven’t missed me.” Corbette’s voice was almost laughably casual. “That’s all right. I haven’t missed you either, you old bat. I’ve got company. Open the doors up now and we’ll try not to damage too much.”



There was a sharp buzzing from the other end, and the gates began to open slowly.



“I hope you appreciate everything I do for you,” the woman’s voice snapped.



“Oh, I don’t,” the biker laughed. “Just to make sure you knew. All right boys, let’s get in there.” Corbette made his way back over to the bike, dragging Alex with him. Alex found himself thrown back onto the bike before the biker slung himself up behind him.



And then…and then Alex was leaning against him again as the bike roared back into life and the group sped through the gates.