Tag twisted around to squint at him over his shoulder. “You worry too much.”
“I like your ass, Doc. I don’t want to break it.”
“You a bad boy or a romantic?”
Bass gripped Tag’s backside in his hands and peeled his cheeks apart so he could nudge his erection against the already slick hole. It was just as tight as last time as it gave under the blunt pressure of his cock, but now he got to watch it as it stretched around the hard width of his shaft.
Short, slow thrusts of his hips worked him deeper inside Tag, the slick ring taut around his cock. Each stroke of his hips made Tag gasp and then push back into him. The bike moved under him, unsteady as his weight shifted, and the engine revved as Tag tightened his hands around the grips.
Fuck.
Bass could feel the harsh growl of the bike’s engine in his balls. It reverberated through Tag’s ass and caught in Bass’s bones, liquified something hot and sticky in the crux of his thighs. He shifted his grip to Tag’s hips to hold him in place.
Careful was hard to hold on to, and the next stroke of his cock buried him inside Tag. His balls pressed against Tag’s ass, uncomfortably squashed and heavy with pleasure. He held himself there, the rumble of the bike an internal pressure that made his stomach clench until Tag squirmed impatiently under him.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked, voice ragged as he tilted his head back. “It’s not broken yet.”
Bass’s laugh hitched raggedly in his throat as he rocked his hips against Tag’s ass in a slow tease of rhythm. Each thrust stirred the hot, heavy syrup of want in his balls, slick and sticky as molasses. Bass freed up one hand to run it up under Tag’s shirt and spread his fingers wide so he could feel the muscles clench and relax each time he thrust home.
There was another scar there. He could feel it under his thumb, angled slightly out from the pucker on Tag’s ribs. When he spread his fingers out wide, pressed the heel of his hand against the small of Tag’s back to stop his restless movement, his thumb just grazed the edge of it.
“I don’t care who you fucked,” he said. “They’re not here now, and I am. That’s all that matters.”
In his head it had sounded magnanimous. Out loud he sounded like a dick.
Tag rocked back against him, and Bass’s cock slid a fraction deeper. It felt more, an exaggerated ache of pleasure knotted up in his spine. He pushed forward again, roughly, and savored the frantic little “ah” that escaped Tag as his cock rubbed over leather that was slick with come and soft from wear. Under Bass’s hand, Tag’s back tightened with a ripple of tension that ran from his hips to his shoulders and then relaxed again as Tag exhaled raggedly.
“Why do you care?” he asked as he looked around. Sweat plastered his short dark hair to his forehead, and his expression was a mixture of confusion, hunger, and frustration.
Bass thrust into Tag with two deep, quick strokes that stoked the lust and pushed the other two emotions to the margins. He liked that better. The need that made Tag chew on his lips and squirm under him was something he could satisfy.
“I don’t know, Doc,” he admitted as he shifted both hands back to Tag’s hips. “Small talk?”
It was probably the first time he’d made someone laugh when he was balls deep in them. He’d have expected it to prick his pride more, but Tag’s breathless snigger as he bent his forehead down to the gas tank curled warmth in Bass’s chest.
He fucked Tag down into the bike, hands clenched around his hips to hold him in place. Each hard stroke of his cock, Tag tight as a hand around him, made hot, sweet pleasure sink down into his balls. Sweat tickled against the back of his neck and itched in the crack of his ass as he tried to hang on just one more tight, deep thrust more.
Tag groaned as he was pushed down against the bike, his cock roughly stimulated, and choked out a whimper every time Bass got the right angle to jostle his prostate. His ass spasmed around Bass’s cock, tight around the base of it as he came against the leather. Come smeared under him in a wet mess over the seat as Bass let himself come with a few rough, frantic thrusts.
Spent, come hot against his cock in the condom, Bass sprawled over Tag’s back and pressed a kiss into the damp hollow of his neck. The usual stale lies scratched at the back of his throat, eager to get dressed up as a promise and out into the fresh air. This time he went with one that he thought he could keep.
“You don’t need to worry about Shepherd or the MC,” Bass murmured against Tag’s throat. “They won’t come near you again. I promise.”
Tag inhaled deeply enough that Bass felt his ribs expand. Then he sighed. “You’re in the club too, Bass? Does that mean you’ll stay out of my life?”
Huh.
It hadn’t occurred to Bass that Tag would still want that. Or that something in Bass’s chest would knot up in blunt rejection of that idea. Apparently that sharp ache didn’t give a damn about Bass’s plausible deniability that this was anything other than a casual fuck.
“I can do that,” Bass said as he lifted himself off Tag and stepped back from the bike. He discarded the condom, tucked his cock back into his jeans, and fastened them. “If it’s what you want. Not like I can blame you, after everything.”
Tag peeled himself off the bike and wiped the leather and his stomach awkwardly with the hem of his T-shirt. He didn’t look at Bass.
“It’s probably best. This is… you are… hard to say no to, but I’ve got a life. I want to put it back together, not smash it to pieces. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, Doc. Like I said, I can’t blame you. I can stay away,” Bass said. He cupped his hand around the back of Tag’s neck, tucked his thumb under his jaw, and tilted his head back for a slow, hungry kiss. “We could start tomorrow. I’ve still got to get you home, after all.”
Tag leaned into the kiss, mouth open and eager as he tangled his tongue around Bass’s. He brushed his fingers over Bass’s hip and up under his shirt.
“Tomorrow,” he surrendered, the word murmured against Bass’s mouth.
Bass smiled into the kiss and deepened it until Tag moaned. He finally pulled away and climbed onto the bike. He pulled on his helmet and tossed the spare back to Tag. A shiver of leftover pleasure prickled down his spine into his ass as, after a second, Tag leaned in and wrapped his arms around his waist, chest pressed against his back and breath against his neck.
Bass revved the bike. The growl of it was rough against his hips and tender balls as he peeled away from the curb. Tarmac flashed past his knee as he took the corner a bit too tight, and Tag squeezed his waist. Bass grinned to himself and enjoyed the moment.
It could be one of the last he had, but he didn’t think so. He had until morning to talk Tag around to… something more than nothing and less than real, and he’d put money on it that he would. Otherwise….
He’d onlythoughtit was a promise he could keep. It wouldn’t be like Tag would be the first man disappointed when they realized Bass told lies after sex.
