Chapter Six

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The hot water pelting my exhausted muscles feels good but I still can't fully relax. The rage that I'm holding inside isn't good. It's been a long time since I felt this all-encompassing anger that won't subside. And Joey's story hits a little close to home.

I was fourteen when I first started rebelling. I thought I might be gay but didn't want to be. I started hitting my old man's bourbon stash after he went to bed and my grades dropped. It was a very fast spiral from middle class kid in the burbs to punk teen on the streets getting tattoos and hanging out in a boxing gym to prove how manly I was.

I barely remember the transformation but by the time I was sixteen, I was an honorary member of the Brother Speed motorcycle club. They taught me how to ride, how to fight, and how to fuck. It was the most liberating time of my life. I wanted so deeply to be a part of something bigger than myself that I didn't care what it was.

It didn't matter that I'd get passed around now and then when the guys were drunk. Or that I was basically their lackey for the entire time I was with them. I still loved every minute of the three years I spent as part of the brotherhood.

Ricky, one of the guys who really took me under his wing, is the only reason I graduated from high school. He was my first crush and more of a father to me than my own dad was during those painful years of fighting my sexuality and discovering how to be honest with myself.

I might still be with him if he didn't lose control in the Sierras on a weekend ride down south. He went over a cliff and died on impact. I was at my grandmother's funeral when Ricky took his last breaths. I've always wondered if he was thinking of me at the end. I'll never know.

But I do know how fucking much it hurt to feel like I'd been abandoned by him. None of the other brothers cared about me the way Ricky did. I was just a dumb kid that looked up to them as if gold shot out their asses. Once Ricky was gone, there was nothing left for me. It was clear they only tolerated me for his sake.

Within a month of his death, I stopped hanging out at Choppers, the bar they owned. After selling the old Harley I'd been working on with Ricky, I moved to California. I needed space and that seemed like a good place to find it. Space and some goddamn sunshine.

I don't ever want Joey to feel abandoned by me. I'm going to make sure he knows he's not alone through this. He doesn't have to keep running. I want him to stay. And with that thought, my pervy mind goes back to his milky white thighs and the beautifully rounded orbs of his ass.

Fuck, I'm hard. It's been a while since I've been this hard in the shower and I'm not gonna waste the opportunity. Plus, I need to get this shit taken care of so I don't accidentally pop one when I'm too close to the kid.

Lathering up a hand towel with soap, I quickly scrub down the sweat from my body. As the water just starts its decline from hot to tepid, I drop the towel and lather up my hands. My cock is already eager for a rub down so when I wrap my fingers around the base and pull, a small moan escapes my throat.

Not wanting to waste time in there, I start hard and fast, drawing my firm grip up and down my shaft with my right hand while cupping and rolling my balls with the other.

Flicking the ring of my PA on each pass, I imagine it's Joey's tongue that's curling around and tugging the skin of my head. Just picturing his bright smile and full red lips wrapped around my cock is enough to draw my balls up tight as my release builds. I know if he were to lick up and down the veins that map out all my most sensitive areas with his hot saliva, I would shoot into his baby fine hair before he could even close those sparkling blue eyes of his.

I hope he heals quickly and decides to stick around because I seriously want to try that for real sometime.

As I'm slowly coming back to reality, the doorbell rings. I have to chuckle when I realize I've startled at my own doorbell like a damn puppy. Not two seconds later, there's a pounding at my bedroom door.

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