by Riley Hart
“Fuck me, Chris. Christ, get in me.” He let go of his own cock to grab Christian’s ass and pull him forward and then Christian was there, buried balls deep. They both breathed heavily. Christian pulled almost all the way out, before thrusting forward again.
“So good,” Beckett rasped out. “So fucking good.”
Christian pushed Beck’s legs farther up, opened him more and held them there as he leaned forward and took Beck’s mouth. His tongue made love to it the same way his dick made love to Beckett’s body.
Beck held his ass. His fingers were calloused, rough pads against his skin.
He gave Beckett everything he had. Sweat ran down his forehead and onto Beck. Christian slid his hand between them, stroking Beckett’s dick as he continued to make love to him.
He rolled their bodies, managing to keep himself inside of Beck as the other man ended up on top of him. From his position on his back, Christian grabbed Beckett’s ass as Beck rode him. He moved expertly, rising up before lowering himself onto Christian’s cock…the cock that was damn close to shooting.
“This has always been my fantasy,” he admitted and Beck smiled down at him, obviously knowing exactly what he meant.
“To be taken for a ride by Beckett Monroe.”
“No,” Christian shook his head. “Just by Beck.”
There was a spark in Beck’s dark eyes telling him that was the right thing to say. Christian wrapped his hand around Beck’s prick again, knowing that his own balls would let loose at any second. He jerked Beck three times before his hole clenched around Christian’s dick and his cock spurted once, twice, two thick jets of come landing on Christian’s stomach and running down his fingers as he continued to work Beckett’s erection.
Then he felt his own balls draw up, felt them give into the pleasure as his hoarse voice called out in an orgasm of his own.
Beckett fell on top of him. Christian wrapped his arms around him, their bodies slick with sweat.
It took them a few minutes to catch their breaths and when they did, it was Beckett who spoke first. “You’re mine now, Chris. Maybe we have to take things slow for a while, feel things out and figure out how we’re going to do this, but we are going to do this. You’re mine,” he said again and Christian didn’t argue.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Beckett looked up at the sign his trainer held as he sped around the track. He was two seconds faster this round than he had been earlier today.
He wanted to be faster.
He leaned the bike into the turn, put his leg out as he took it and then twisted the throttle on the straightaway. His bike flew through the air at the jump.
His pulse went faster than his bike. His body felt amped up, but his mind was also at ease.
Beck felt a fire burning through him, one that hadn’t fully ignited in years. He fed off of it, it pushed him, made him completely focus as his bike bounced over the whoops—he’d always loved racing over the small hills—and then he took up the speed again.
The passion he used to ride with reignited within him. Everything he loved about riding was intensified, an explosion inside of him. When he finished the last lap, and pulled up to his trainer, team and team owner as they watched on, he felt invincible.
As invincible as he felt, he knew there was a reason the Rush Racing team owner was here. The truth was, he couldn’t find it in himself to worry. Not anymore. He was a Supercross champion. He was the fastest guy on his team, even if he hadn’t ridden like it last season…and he was bisexual, and hoped to be in a relationship with a man. They would have to accept that.
“Christ, you’re smoking out there, Monroe. You can tell you’re really feeling it. That’s the Beckett we know! Where was he hiding?” Bill, the team owner said as Beckett pulled his helmet off.
“Thank you. I feel better than I have in a long time, if I’m being honest. But I can be faster. I know it.”
“If you were doing what you were doing while not feeling good,” Bill said, “I sure as hell can’t wait to see what you can do now.”
The men all laughed, but Beckett just waited for him to get on with it. He wanted Bill to say whatever he’d come all the way out here to say.
As if he sensed that Beckett didn’t want to beat around the bush forever, he said, “Listen, I just want you to know, you’ll always have a place with Rush Racing. I know we said it before, but I want to reiterate. You’re part of the team…of the family. That’s all that matters, Beck. We take care of our own at Rush, and you’re one of us.”
“Agreed,” his trainer, Dom, told him.
The three other members of the Rush Racing team chimed in around him.
Just like that, any residue of worry melted off of him. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“It’s sad that in this day and age, we even have to say that. Not quite sure how any of it has to do with how you race, but sports are funny like that.” Bill shook his head. Unfortunately, it wasn’t only sports where people felt that way.
“Thanks, man,” Beckett said again. He probably should have realized he’d still been worried about it but he was likely in denial. He wasn’t worried anymore.
Bill nodded. “I’ll let you boys get back at it.” And then he was gone and Beck wanted back out on his bike. Wanted to beat his last time, work out, and then head home so he could call Chris and tell him how his day had gone.
He wished like hell he could tell him in person.
*
“Did he win yet?” Quinn asked Christian from the other side of the couch. Christian sat with his ass at the edge, leaning forward, his leg bouncing up and down.
“You look like you’re going to try and jump through the TV. Don’t try and jump through the TV, please.”
Christian looked over and rolled his eyes at his friend. “He crashed. Beck never crashes. That knocked him down to tenth place.”
“But he’s in sixth place now.”
“I know he’s in sixth! That’s why I’m losing my fucking mind. Oh fuck! He just passed Edwards!” Christian shot off the couch as though that would help. “He just passed Edwards,” he said again. “Now he’s in fifth.”
Christian kept his eyes glued to the television. His heart threatened to burst through his chest, it beat so damn hard. Beck would be devastated if he didn’t at least get a podium today. He’d won the first three races of the season. He was the points leader. While not taking the first race today wouldn’t be the end of the world, he would see it that way.
“Jesus, you’re really in love with this guy.”
Christian didn’t turn away from the television when he said, “No shit.”
“I knew it. I always have. It’s just good to see you at peace with it.”
And he was. He really was. They spoke every day. He felt like he was in a romance novel every time he saw Beck’s name light up on his phone. It was ridiculous really, but he didn’t care. It was as though he found a piece of himself he hadn’t realized he’d needed so damn badly. He’d always known he missed Beck, that he cared for him, but having him in his life again felt like he’d been put back together when he hadn’t known he’d been broken.
Not that he would tell Quinn all of that…but he also knew he had to tell Quinn something or the man wouldn’t leave him alone.
“Being at peace with something or knowing it’s true still isn’t a guarantee, Quinn. You and I both know life doesn’t always work that way. I want him. There’s not a doubt in my mind he wants me.”
“Cocky.”
“Confident for good reason.” He grinned at Quinn. “We have a lot to figure out. It’s been pretty much an unspoken agreement that we don’t make any decisions until after this season.” It wasn’t something they brought up when they talked, but that truth was always there on the line with them. “Now can we stop with the mushy shit? I’m trying to watch the race.”
Quinn dropped against the back of the couch and laughed. “Sorry. Me man. Must watch race. Is that how I’m supposed to sound?”
He rolled his eyes and couldn’t help but chuckle too.
“Oh shit. You’re laughing. That means I need to work on being masc, right? Should I lower my voice?”
Christian sat back down onto the couch with his friend. He wanted Beck to meet him so badly. He was lucky to have both of them in his life. “No,” Christian told him. “You’re good the way you are. Now watch the fucking race before I kick you out. Holy fuck, he’s in third! See what you made me miss?”
And then the two of them were both on edge, both cheering on Beckett Monroe as he did what he did best, and pulled out a win.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Beckett hated when they raced in Colorado. The elevation really got to him. It affected most of the riders who didn’t grow up riding where the air was so much thinner.
He felt like shit. He’d taken second in the first race today and first place in the next one. He was still the man everyone was racing to catch, with a small points lead over Meyers. He felt like his old self out there and he loved it…but it was a long season, too. They were on their eighth race out of twelve. Eight weeks out of twelve and even though he’d gone ten years without seeing Christian, the last two months had felt like the longest of his life. It didn’t matter that they talked every day. He needed to see him. To hold him. To claim him.
Those five days in Virginia had changed his life, but it was that logic that told him he needed to slow the hell down and not jump the gun. Five days. They’d spent five days together in ten years. They lived on opposite coasts.
Neither of those things seemed to matter when it came to Chris.
He rolled over in the hotel bed, and reached for his cell. The second he did, the damn thing rang like it could read his mind. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Christian’s name that showed up on the screen.
“Hey, Ma,” Beckett said into his cell.
“How’s your breathing? Was it bothering you up there today? Dad said he could tell you were struggling a little bit.”
“Don’t tell him that, Nansi!” his dad said in the background and Beckett smiled.
“Pick up the phone, Earl,” she called back to him and he waited while they bickered—his mom wanting them both to talk and his dad making excuses why they shouldn’t. His dad had never been a fan of them both being on the line at the same time but he usually did it. Beckett couldn’t help but wonder if he wouldn’t now because he still wasn’t sure how to talk to him. As if he thought Beckett was suddenly a different man.
“Tell him I said to pick up,” he told his mom. She paused for a moment, likely surprised, but then did as he asked.
“Beckett wants to speak to you, Earl.”
There was a pause. The sound of a hand over the phone. And all he could do was close his eyes and shake his head. He’d always been close to his dad. He knew his dad loved him. It shouldn’t be hard for him to speak to Beckett now.
A moment later, he heard the clatter of the other phone being picked up. They were the only people he knew who regularly used landlines outside of work. His dad was pretty anti-cell phone. He only had one because Beckett and his mom had forced it on him.
“So you could tell through the television that I was struggling, or what, old man?” Beckett teased, trying to break the ice. He wouldn’t let things be awkward between them. He wanted to make sure his dad knew nothing had changed.
“Who you callin’ old man?” his dad replied. “And I just know ya. That’s all. You kept riding and you pulled out the win, though. That’s all that matters.”
“Agreed,” Beckett told him and his mom gasped before speaking.
“That and the fact that he could breathe! Geez, I don’t know how I made it raising you for twenty-eight years. You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”
“What did I do?” Beckett asked and the three of them laughed. No matter what had happened in the past they were good parents and Beckett knew they loved him.
They spoke a little bit about the season so far. It felt like it used to when he talked to them—like his parents still felt like they knew who their son was and he didn’t feel like his father was carefully navigating what he said so he could avoid the topic of Beckett’s newly outted sexuality.
The league had been better than he’d expected when it came to labeling him any time they spoke about his racing or standings. He didn’t give a shit who knew anymore, he just didn’t think it had anything to do with motocross.
But this? Talking to his family was different. He’d hidden Christian from them before and he didn’t plan on doing it again. He always flew his parents out for the last race of every season and this year it would be in California. This year, Chris would be there with him.
“Christian is going to come to the final race at Glen Helen.”
The line went quiet—the kind of quiet that slithered down his spine. It was of course, his mom who recovered first. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear the two of you are talking again. His parents will be glad to hear it, too. It’s a shame you boys got too busy to keep up your friendship. You know I’ve always liked Christian. Isn’t that good, Earl?”
His dad cleared his throat. “Yes…yes, that’s good. Are you sure it’s a good idea for him to go to the final race? It won’t distract you? Meyers is awfully close to you in points.”
He could hear the change in tone of the conversation. Even through the line he felt the heaviness of it. “It’ll be fine. He won’t distract me. I want him there. I need him there. And we didn’t lose touch with one another because we were too busy. I think both of you know that.”
“What’s between you and Christian is between you and Christian. You don’t need to tell us about it,” his dad blustered.
“Would you say that if I were talking to you about a woman?” Beckett asked. The silence on the line was the only reply he needed. “I’m not going to go into detail about my relationship or lack thereof with Chris…but it’s important to me that you know I care about him…that I’d like to have a relationship with him. You’re my parents and I love you. You both sacrificed so damn much for me. You would have given anything for me to have my dream. There’s nothing I can do to repay you for that, but I’m asking you for something else too…I’d like your support in this. Not having it won’t change who I am or what I do, but I love you, and I plan on being with Christian. I want your support.”
And then, Beckett waited. He heard his mom’s soft cries in the background, but it was his father who spoke first. “We will always support you in anything you do, Beck. I’m sorry if I led you to believe otherwise. All we’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy and if Christian makes you happy then you go for it, you make it happen like you’ve done with everything else in your life.”
Those words were like salve to his heart. “Thank you,” he whispered.
The truth was, Beckett wanted Christian, wanted him more than he’d ever wanted anything, more than motocross. It didn’t matter where they lived or how they made it work, all he knew was one way or another, he would be with Christian.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Christ, there are a lot of pretty boys here. Why didn’t you tell me so many pretty boys like to play in the dirt?” Quinn asked Christian as they made their way through the pit. There were factory tents, signings, and other activities going on before the first races began.
The air was stifling hot as they were so far inland. It was dusty and barren with the constant buzz of bikes and people in the background. Christian had to admit, he loved it.
“Because you’re obsessed with pretty boys,” Christian told him. “And that always gets you into trouble.”
“Pretty boys are obsessed with me. That’s not my fault. And you’re obsessed too. At least with one pretty boy.”
He didn’t bother to respond to that.
Christian had made sure they weren’t around when Beckett was signing. He wanted to give him his space before the race, even though it had been twelve weeks since he’d seen him and i
t was killing him. He figured it might already be awkward for Beck with him here and he didn’t want to make that worse. He probably shouldn’t have taken Quinn with him because he had a habit of sticking his foot in his mouth but it was too late now.
“If we see Beck, don’t piss me off.”
“Come on, Christian. You know me better than that—oh shit. There’s a fucking jersey with his name on it. Your boyfriend has a goddamn jersey with his name on it. I’m buying it.”
“Oh fuck. I knew I shouldn’t have brought you. The first race for the 250 class is about to start. Let’s go watch.”
They headed toward the area Beckett told him to go watch. The bikes with 250 and 450cc engines had two, thirty-minute races each—plus two or three laps, depending on when the winner crossed the finish line. It might not seem like it but that was a long time when you were out there holding onto a bike that was bumping through a rutty track.
When they made it to where Beck told him to go, Christian realized a few things at once: The fucking podium was right there, as was the finish line, and the area was roped off. Security guards were at each of the four corners. He had no doubt the people behind that rope were friends and family of the racers.
All those things hit him before he saw Beckett’s parents behind that very rope.
He stopped dead in his tracks, Quinn running into him from behind. “Oh fuck,” Christian whispered. He didn’t know why he was surprised, but he was. This was…this was a big fucking deal for Beck to have done. His chest immediately felt full while his stomach tied into knots.
“He’s making it official, Christian.”
“No shit.”
“This is big.”
“You think?” Christian asked.
“I do,” he replied and Christian wanted to fucking kill him.
He also wasn’t going to stand here all day. He wasn’t sure exactly what Beck might have told them but it was obvious the people behind that rope had to be expecting him or Beckett wouldn’t have told him to come over here. He knew Beckett’s parents must know he was coming, even though he hadn’t known about them. He might have to kill Beckett for that later. “Let’s go,” he said and then they made their way toward the roped off area.