Denis took his time, drawing out the pleasure, his movements unhurried but precise. Cherry’s moans grew louder, his body trembling under the onslaught. When Denis added a finger, curling it just right, Cherry’s back arched, a sharp cry escaping him.
But Cherry wasn’t content to just receive. Once the tremors abated, he pulled Denis up, flipping their positions so he was on top. “My turn,” he said, his voice a low growl. He kissed his way down Denis’s body, taking him in his mouth with the same deliberate care Denis had shown. Denis’s hands gripped Cherry’s hair, his moans filling the room as Cherry worked him, slow and teasing.
The pace shifted again, the smoldering giving way to frenzy. Cherry quickly slipped a condom down the length of Denis’ cock, then straddled Denis, guiding him inside with a groan. They moved together, fast and hard, the bed creaking under their weight. Cherry’s hands braced on Denis’s chest, his hips rolling in a rhythm that drove them both wild.
“Cherry. Oh my God, Cherry. Holy fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” Denis gasped, his hands gripping Cherry’s thighs.
“Worth it,” Cherry panted, his movements relentless.
They chased their release together, bodies slick with sweat, breaths ragged. When it came, it was explosive, their cries mingling as they collapsed in a heap.
In the quiet aftermath, Cherry nestled into Denis’s side, his head on his chest. The words he couldn’t say hung in the air, but he didn’t need them, not yet. This was enough, a beginning that promised more.
He woke hours later, the city was still dark outside. Cherry’s hand found Denis’s under the sheets, their fingers intertwining telling him Denis was awake too.
“You’re still here,” Denis murmured, his voice sleepy but warm.
“Where else would I be?” Cherry replied, his tone light but his grip tightening.
They made love again, slower this time, a gentle exploration that felt like a promise. Cherry believed each touch, each kiss was a step towards something deeper, a future where love might be spoken aloud. Where Denis would be his Guy forever.
?Chapter Nineteen
Cherry
The sun hung low over the Louisiana skyline, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt of the Incoherent clubhouse lot. Cherry straddled his bike, the beast rumbling beneath him like a caged animal eager for the hunt. His cut felt heavier than usual today, weighted down by the fresh insult from those Azrael’s Scimitars motherfuckers.
The ASMC had crossed a line, tagging their territory with spray-paint slurs that hit too close to home, mocking the club’s colors and whispering rumors about weaknesses in the ranks. Cherry’s jaw clenched as he revved the engine, the vibration shooting up his arms, grounding him in the moment.
Cherry killed the engine and swung off the bike, boots crunching gravel as he headed inside. The clubhouse was a fortress of faded glory: pool tables scarred from too many games, walls plastered with photos of brothers lost and rides eternal. As always, when there was tension in the club, the air smelled of cigarettes and stale beer, the faint whang of motor oil riding the air. He nodded at a dozen men, getting a “brother” back from many. The others returned his chin lift, worry on their expression. In the back room, the war council waited.
IMC patch on his back was a badge of honor, but today it felt like a target. IMC had been through hell and back, but the latest slap from the ASMC had the whole chapter buzzing with rage.
Cherry’s boots thudded on the worn wooden floor as he made his way to the back room. Voices murmured behind the door, deep, gravelly tones laced with anger. He pushed it open, nodding to the men inside.
Wildman dominated the space, his broad shoulders straining against his cut. As president of the mother chapter, he carried the weight of the entire club on those shoulders. His beard was a wild tangle of gray and black, eyes piercing like daggers. “Cherry,” he said, voice like thunder rolling in from afar. “Sit your ass down. We got business.”
