DIRT: the grunge diaries (𝒱𝒾𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝒶'𝓈 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃)

entry #45 - ask

⚠️ mentions of sex and drugs ⚠️

Half asleep, half awake, cradled by the wobbles of the tour bus engine, as we ride along the highway for the, maybe, tenth hour in a row. The sun is going down, but from time to time, a fading ray of sunlight lands on my face and spoils my late afternoon nap idyll. And when it does, I just bury my head on the chest of my full asleep beau, whine something that doesn't make sense, and pull him closer to me. I wish we were in bed at this point, getting some decent rest because we're wiped out after last night's two hours of sleep, but nevermind. As long as we're together, I'm overpowered. I just need to close my eyes for five minutes, while we're all cuddled up, and I instantly feel brand new.

I can feel his arms tightening around me, his one hand rubbing my tummy... and I mumble, not quite sure if I'm just asleep and dreaming, or awake and living my best life. I don't know. All I know is that he's tugging my arm a little bit too insistently, to be someone who's full asleep, but I don't pay too much attention to it because I'm far too wiped out. As a matter of fact, I can't seem to open my eyes, not even when he keeps tugging my arm and starts to laugh like an idiot.

'Dyna. Dyna. Dyna. Dyna'. He speaks, my wrist still in his hand, tugging me like he really fucking wants to spoil my nap. I whine, rub my eyes open... and welcome the sight of him, my beautiful, half asleep hunk, laughing while pointing at a Harley-Davidson Dyna Glide riding right next to the tour bus. It used to be a Honda Four, a few hours ago, now it's a Dyna. A carbon grey, Harley-Davidson Dyna Glide ridden by a guy who totally looks like he's from Salt Lake City. Without a helmet on his head, on the fucking highway, 'cause that's probably how they do it, in Utah. They do it the dumb way... but Sean and I are dumber. 'Cause all of these inside biker jokes that we share sure ain't very normal people-like of us, and no matter how unfunny they are, they always crack us up. Hence we laugh, being careful enough to keep out pitch in check because everyone else around us is sleeping, and somewhere mid hysteria... I realise I'm just Dyna kiss him. My lips find his, and we exchange a kiss that feels exactly like a good very fuckin' late morning. Slow n' sloppy, but still sweet as fuck.

'I thought you were sleeping. Turns out you were looking at Harley-Davidson's...'. I comment, a mock roll back of the eyes as I take a break from kissing him. I thought he was asleep, he was oddly tame and very still under me, he even snored into my ear at some point... but plot twist, he was slightly more awake than I was, with my cockatiel on his shoulder, looking at that fucking ugly Dyna Glide driving right next to the tour bus. It's fucking ugly, he knows I think it's fucking ugly, but he still made sure I opened my eyes to take a look at it, like the good non boyfriend boyfriend that he is. He was probably trying to remind me that when he doesn't ride his lush Honda Four or his fancy Kawasaki EL, he keeps falling off his Harley-Davidson Dyna Glide for a hobby. And I appreciate his self deprecation here. Reason why I just chuckle, and let my both hands rub the scratches and bruises on his knees. He's gotten them by falling off Dyna, according to his very honest account, but he hasn't stopped riding the petite Harley just yet. Laugh worthy, but I try to put a damper on my hilarity just because he looks like he's damn proud to have that motherfucking bike in his garage, and I don't want to tackle his Harley-Davidson rider pride by any means.

'That was one fine Dyna. Nice ... ass... asset. Right?' He comments, pointing at the Harley-Davidson two wheeler slaloming between cars, and finally disappearing from our sight. About fucking time it did, looking at it was rather painful, for someone with immaculate taste in motorcycles like me. He laughs, and I chuckle because I've enjoyed his little pun, although I don't agree with him. That wasn't one fine Dyna, it was tackiness on two wheels. The ass, I mean... asset, wasn't nice, it looked quite unstable and wobbly. And judging from the way he's sneaking his hand between the seat I'm sat on and my buttocks, he seems to be far more allured by my ass, than the asset of that Dyna Glide. When he squeezes my one butt cheek and pulls an idiotic, accomplished grin, I'm hundred percent sure of my theory. Jackpot. Babe over bike. Tori 1-0 Dyna.