Milo
The meeting with theHeleonix marketing team took far too long, and by the time I got back to the test track, Xavier was caught between Diego and Priya, arguing about something. Even from this distance, I recognized the signs: the tight jaw, the rigid spine, the way he shifted his weight forward like he was ready to either fight or flee. Diego was grinning, clearly enjoying himself, while Priya was focused on whatever X was saying. They didn’t look aggressive, so why was he on the defensive? I supposed X never could tell the difference between intellectual challenge and personal attack.
“The throttle mapping is bullshit,” Xavier’s voice became audible as I approached. “You’ve got this stupid lag built in for safety, but all it does is make the bike feel dead. It’s like asking for permission to go fast.”
Diego nodded. “That’s what I’ve been saying! The nanny-state approach alienates experienced riders.”
“But removing the lag creates a jerky response that’s unpredictable in wet conditions,” Priya countered, her eyes bright with the thrill of debate. “What if we mapped different throttle responses for different rider modes?”
Xavier scoffed. “Give riders the raw experience and let them figure it out. Stop trying to program some sanitized version of what you think a bike should feel like.” Xavier was getting riled up. His body language screamed defensiveness, like he was bracing for the moment they’d dismiss him as another grease monkey from the wrong side of town. I stepped forward. “Sorry to interrupt. Mind if I steal X for a minute? Need his input on the sizzle reel I’m editing.”
“Perfect timing,” Priya said, checking her watch. “I need to prep for the board presentation.” She turned to Xavier. “Your input has been invaluable. I’d like to bring you into the advanced mapping sessions next week if you’re available.”
Xavier gave a noncommittal grunt that could have meant anything from “fuck off” to “sounds great.” I placed a hand on his lower back, gentle pressure guiding him away from the engineers.
Once we were out of earshot, walking along the edge of the track, he exploded. “Fucking academics. Think they know everything because they went to some fancy school.”
I stopped walking, turning to face him directly. “That’s not what was happening and you know it.”
“The fuck it wasn’t. They were humoring me.”
“They were debating with you,” I corrected, keeping my voice low and steady. “Like colleagues. Like equals. Diego hasn’t shut up about your throttle feedback since you first rode the prototype. And Priya abandoned a board presentation prep to continue your conversation.”
Xavier’s jaw worked back and forth, his eyes darting away from mine. “They don’t respect what we know. They think because we didn’t go to college—”
“They asked for your opinion because you know things they don’t,” I insisted. “That’s the opposite of disrespect.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Whatever,” he muttered, then turned and stalked toward the exit.
I sighed, watching him go. Every time someone recognized his talent, Xavier found a way to twist it into an attack. It was exhausting, and yet I understood. When your entire life has taught you that nothing good lasts, you learn to reject it before it can reject you.
I jogged after him, following as he pushed through the glass doors and headed for the parking lot. The mountain air hit me like a slap after the climate-controlled interior of the Heleonix facility, fresh and cool despite the summer heat.
Xavier had reached his bike by the time I caught up to him, helmet in hand, the set of his shoulders broadcasting “leave me the fuck alone” in neon letters. I ignored the warning, stepping into his space, close enough that our chests almost touched.
“Xavier.”
He wouldn’t look at me, his gaze fixed on some point over my shoulder. “I need to go.”
Instead of backing off, I moved closer, reaching up to cup the back of his neck. He stiffened but didn’t pull away. Gently, I pulled his forehead against mine, our breath mingling in the small space between us. This close, I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the tension that never left his face.
“Talk to me,” I murmured, my thumb stroking the soft skin behind his ear.
He closed his eyes, a shudder running through him. “I need to ride,” he whispered, the words a confession. “I need to...feel something that makes sense.”
I smirked and ran my hands down his back, squeezing and massaging his ass as I pulled his hips against mine. “You want me to fuck your hole? Right here in the parking lot.” “No,” he huffed, then shuddered. “Okay, yes. But first, I need to ride.”
“Okay,” I agreed, holding his gaze. “But nothing reckless. I lead, you follow. If you’re a good boy on the bike, I’ll give you everything you need tonight in Junie’s bed.”
For a moment, I thought he might argue—Xavier never followed anyone—but he nodded, a slight dip of his chin.
“Promise me,” I pressed, needing to hear him say it.
“I promise,” he breathed, the words warming my lips. “You lead.”
I released him, stepping back to retrieve my own helmet. We mounted our bikes in silence, the engines roaring to life with twin growls that echoed off the Heleonix building.
I chose our route carefully—sweeping mountain roads that demanded focus without tempting recklessness, curves that flowed one into another like music. I let the ride work its magic. Xavier’s wounds ran too deep for quick solutions. All I could do was offer him this—the freedom of the open road, the certainty of my presence ahead of him, the promise that I wouldn’t lead him anywhere dangerous.
