Road of No Return (gay outlaw biker MC romance)

by K. A. Merikan

  Stitch kissed his ear, increasingly eager to get the lube where it belonged. He squeezed some out, remembering all the countless times they’d fucked. Fast, slow, rough, sweet, in the car, at the swamp, in the kitchen, in the garage, in the bath, in bed, on the floor. Each time was engraved in Stitch’s muscle memory. Each time, Zak became more familiar and yet no two times were the same, with the deep yearning having Stitch constantly thinking about his lover. It was so different from anything he had ever felt for anyone, even for Crystal or some of the guys he was secretly crushing on. This time, he was choosing to follow his instincts, crawl deep into Zak’s embrace and never let him go. He didn’t owe anything to the people who’d call this love wrong, not when it felt so right, so fulfilling. Just looking at Zak smiling at him, drawing on the sofa, playing with Versay was enough to make him all warm and gooey inside.

  “What are you thinking about?” uttered Zak with a small smile even as he slowly rolled over to his side.

  “How much I want you to be my family.” Stitch kissed Zak’s shoulder and got some lube onto his fingers before sliding them between the warm buttocks. His cock was throbbing with urgency. It was nice to take your time with sex, but he was desperate to speed up.

  Zak gasped and pulled up one knee. He leaned back into Stitch’s chest and rested his head on Stitch’s bicep with a low groan. “You, me, and the dog? The perfect gay family,” he chuckled, kissing the inner side of Stitch’s arm.

  “I want it all. I want Holly in my life, and even Crystal. I want to make it work.” Stitch trailed kisses along Zak’s arm as he teased the anus with his slippery fingers, already excited by the heat of Zak’s body. It would suck him in, tightening around him when he pulled out and opening up to swallow his cock when he pushed in.

  Zak reached back with a moan, and his hand closed around Stitch’s wrist, pressing Stitch’s hand to his ass with a demanding gesture. He didn’t have to suggest it twice. Stitch drilled in two fingers at once in a slow but firm circular motion. He already knew Zak would be ready for him in no time. Knowing a partner’s body like this was a far cry from the first time they’d fucked, when he wasn’t sure what to say, how to treat a guy, or what Zak liked. Bottoming also gave Stitch perspective on how it felt to be penetrated, and even though he topped more frequently than not, thanks to the experience he could better understand what his lover was feeling. It was both being vulnerable and empowered, the pleasure of being filled, entered by someone he felt so much for, and the sheer ecstasy of having his prostate nudged by a cock. There was nothing else like it, and when Zak’s tight body opened up to his fingers, he groaned, sucking on his shoulder, driving the digits deep and scissoring them in the already relaxed hole. Zak loved being fucked so there usually wasn’t much to overcome, but Stitch still enjoyed dipping his fingers inside and teasing the sensitive flesh wherever he could reach.

  “You ready for me, Zak?” Stitch murmured into his skin, but already knew what the answer would be. He pulled out his fingers and pinched Zak’s ass.

  Zak’s back arched, and for a moment Stitch believed it was the witch inked on the skin that moved but it was all an illusion. Zak buried his face in the soft inner side of Stitch’s elbow and moaned, his ass brushing against Stitch’s cock. “I need you to keep me close.”

  “I won’t ever let you go.” Stitch licked along Zak’s skin, savoring the saltiness. He grabbed Zak’s thigh in a firm grip and kept it lifted as he teased Zak’s crack with his cockhead. On an impulse, he pushed in, breathing in Zak's smell as he sank deep into that welcoming hole. So fucking hot, slippery, and inviting.

  Zak's groan echoed through the room. He arched against Stitch and pushed back his hips, impaling himself all the way and molding their bodies together. “We’re in this together. No one’s gonna take you away from me,” he whispered, and it didn’t matter whether he was talking about Crystal, the MC, or even the criminal justice system.

  Stitch hugged Zak close, with his stomach against Zak’s back, hand holding onto Zak’s thigh. He pushed his dick in deep and started a rhythm of slapping noises. He already imagined leaving his come in Zak, marking him with his scent, as he bit on his warm ear. He needed Zak to feel him to the core.

  They moved together, completely immersed in one another, Zak’s breath burning Stitch’s forearm, his ass tightening around him time and time again, as if Zak wanted to keep him deep inside, hug him both from the outside and from within. The shampoo smelled so good on Zak’s skin, teasing Stitch into burying his nose in the damp mane as he drove his cock in a steady yet firm rhythm. Zak spat on his free hand and moved it down to touch himself with a low moan.

  Stitch put his chin on Zak’s arm and looked down at that beautiful cock, moving his hips at the same pace as Zak’s hand. “Come first. I wanna watch,” he panted, his body so hot he would probably need another shower.

  Zak shuddered in his arms, squeezing the cock in his fist and clamping down on Stitch in the same moment. “My nipple,” he whispered, rolling his head back to look at Stitch, his eyes glowing, lips dark and plump.

  Stitch grinned down at the rings in Zak’s nipples and let go of Zak’s thigh to move his hand where it was clearly more needed. He pulled on the piercing and twisted it gently. “Come on, jerk off,” he rasped.

  Zak twitched against him and snapped his teeth toward Stitch with a manic expression. “Such a dirty mouth,” he uttered breathlessly but his hand started moving faster, firmer, slapping against his balls.

  “Such a dirty boy.” Stitch chuckled and only fucked Zak harder, with sharp, fast jabs.

  “Yes. I love your cock up my ass,” growled Zak. He bit his lip, trembling ever so slightly as his eyes glazed over, and he came, thick ropes of come splattering on the duvet and Zak’s hand. Stitch made sure not to blink, so he could watch the spectacle, but when the muscles in Zak’s ass started clenching around his cock, he moaned, knowing it wouldn’t take long for him to finish. He pinched Zak’s nipple hard and slammed his cock in a few more times. He barely breathed when he came and pumped his come into Zak.

  “So good,” he rasped. “Take it all.”

  “Yes. I want it,” whispered Zak. His fingers clenched around both of Stitch’s wrists, keeping them close to his body. He leaned in and pressed quick, sensuous kisses to both, like they were the most precious things in the world.

  Stitch didn’t have any words left, so he just returned the kisses onto Zak’s skin, wherever he could reach without moving too much. His muscles were goo.

  “You’re all mine,” was the last thing he heard from Zak.

  He’d never felt more like an outlaw than now.

  Chapter 25

  Zak touched the sand and looked up at the trembling surface of the water. It was so warm that he almost felt dry, with rays of sun caressing his skin. But he pushed himself away from the surface, and the rocks at the shore became more distant, like something belonging to a different world. His back hit the sand, and he rolled to his stomach to face Stitch. His lover sat cross-legged next to a large pink fish, which kept its eyes on something Stitch was writing in the sand.

  Stitch smiled up at him, and Zak noticed it said ‘Hounds of Valhalla’ on the sand. “We should move to Mexico.”

  Zak smiled and moved forward on his hands and knees, pushing back the hair that kept floating into his face. He stopped when his hand grasped something strange instead of sand. It was a face, and his fingers were buried deep in the eyeless sockets, the heel of his palm resting in the open mouth. All of a sudden, Zak was out of air, his chest tightening as if something within it sucked in his lungs, as if there was a black hole in place of his heart. He tried to scream but no noise came, and the moment his mouth opened, bitter, salty water rushed down his throat like a fist. He yanked his fingers out of the face’s eye sockets. It was Cox.

  *

  He was tossed around by a harsh wave, no, by a pair of strong arms. Holding on to the warm flesh in his arms, he screamed when a dull pain spread through his brain
from a punch to its side. For a moment, he had no idea where he was, his eyes stinging, mind still clinging to the dream.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” He heard a harsh male voice and suddenly met the floor, tumbling over it a few times. It was harder than he imagined, and he actually heard a sharp snap in his neck when he landed. But no, he could still move his head.

  “Told you. Enough is enough,” Captain said.

  “What are you doing here? Get the fuck out!” Stitch.

  Zak turned to his back and tried to get to his feet, but Captain launched himself at him like the embodiment of fury. One punch to the gut robbed him of breath, and his knees softened. He dropped to the floor against his will. “Leave,” he choked out. “This is my house.” The edges of his vision were darkening when he looked around, spotting six men in the all-too-familiar leather cuts. From the floor, they looked like demons who came all the way here from hell, ready to drag him and Stitch to the cellar and bury them alive.

  “We’re here to take what’s ours, pussyboy.” Gator said, smoking a cigarette by the window. “I wouldn’t take you for a roses kind of guy.” He grabbed the flowery curtain in his hand. “But then again I wouldn’t take Stitch for a fag.”

  “He’s got nothing to do with our business!” Stitch yelled at them, and Zak finally noticed Stitch had got pulled to the other side of the bed and was forced to kneel. One guy held his arms back and cuffed him, while another one had a knife to his neck. They were all people Zak knew, but at this moment, they seemed like a faceless mass, like ants sharing one goal: devour what stands in your way.

  All thought left Zak’s head, leaving behind chaos as his hands and legs suddenly burst with heat. He raised his palms, fighting for every word that left his mouth. “Leave him, please. You can have whatever you want,” he whispered, choking up. His eyes stung, and he felt as if someone was trying to strangle him with a thick fist.

  Captain snorted and smacked the back of Zak’s head. Still, it was nothing like the beating Zak got yesterday, which only had him more nervous because it meant they weren’t here to hurt him. They were here for Stitch.

  “You touch him and I’m gonna k—” Stitch yelled, but got his mouth stuffed with a makeshift gag. Blood dripped down his neck and chest from where the knife dug in as he writhed.

  “We’ll leave today, I promise. You won’t have to see us ever again,” uttered Zak, afraid to make any sudden move with the blade against Stitch’s skin. “I’ll do anything you want. Let him go...” he whispered once again as his breath turned into a wheeze. This couldn’t be happening.

  Gator put out his cigarette on the windowsill. “Too late, cocksucker. I don’t really care about you. I just don’t want to see your face in the club ever again. Him,” he pointed to Stitch, “we’re gonna have to deal with. Fucking liar, rotting our club from the inside. No wonder you were such a pussy lately, Stitch. It all makes more sense now.”

  Stitch’s nostrils flared with every deep breath he took. He was watching Zak with his eyes wide open and a face so red it seemed to contain most of the blood in his body. He was such a buff guy, but naked, kneeling on the floor with three men hovering over him, he looked as vulnerable as never before.

  “What do you want to do?” whispered Zak. Maybe he could reason with Gator somehow, offer to give him the money the club lost on drugs. He slowly moved his way, completely focused on the bald head as if it were the Holy Grail.

  “It’s none of your business. My advice? Don’t call the cops, and you’ll get him back alive. Even if as damaged goods. Let’s go,” Gator waved his hands at his men, and one of them pulled Stitch up to his feet.

  Zak’s stomach tightened as if squeezed by a fist. He needed to come up with something. Instead, he was standing there like a scarecrow, unable to make a move to prevent the inevitable. He couldn’t protect Stitch in his own house. “He has a little daughter, for God’s sake. Don’t hurt him!”

  “Look, he’s even got his dick tattooed,” one of the guys, Tank, pointed to Zak with a child-like grin, but Captain pushed him out the door.

  “Gator said ‘go’!” The one-eyed villain pushed Tank out the door. The two men guarding Stitch followed.

  Gator was the last one to linger and eyed Zak with a scowl. “Don’t interfere with club business. He’ll live. Probably.”

  Zak gritted his teeth, backing away into the wall. His skin was like a minefield, ready to explode with heat or frost as he looked into the dark eyes. He wanted to threaten Gator, promise him a painful death or police arresting all the club members, but he knew very well how that would end. He did not stand a chance with the Hounds. If he actually called the police, the club could retaliate by hurting Stitch more than they intended, they could reveal that Stitch killed Cox. Stitch could die, end up seriously hurt, or go to jail.

  Zak slid down the wall into a tight squat and grasped onto his own hair in a mixture of fear, rage, and helplessness. He was so useless, unable to protect the one person he needed to have by his side.

  Gator left without another word, leaving Zak in the pink, flower-patterned bedroom, with bedding that still smelled of Stitch. Zak gritted his teeth and slid to his ass. His chest tightened as he listened to the thumping sounds of heavy boots on the stairs. He was in limbo, his heart trying to push him up, make him go after them, fight, but that was exactly why he only held onto his hair tighter, curling into a ball. He couldn’t go. It would only make matters worse. He needed to stay still like a little bitch and wait. It was only when the engines roared that all tension left his muscles, and he sobbed, letting the tears fall freely.

  Chapter 26

  Stitch watched the fire with a numbness in his head. There was terror to come, and all he could do was brace for it. The gravel underneath his knees dug into his naked skin, but it was the least of his problems. In the face of the bonfire, the kneeling was like a punishment in kindergarten. Blood rushed through Stitch’s veins in a neverending pumping, just like the flames in front of him.

  It was ironic that the old scrap metal company out of town, the place where Stitch stole his first TV with Captain, where he stepped on a path that would lead him to the Hounds of Valhalla, would be the place where he got stripped of the privilege. Or was it a burden by now? The patched cut had never felt as heavy as it did yesterday when he was sawing through Cox’s body like it was some roadkill. The vest stuck to him from all the sweat, yet he hadn’t taken it off, it still defined him. After all the years of friendships, shared crimes and secrets, the club felt as much his family as Holly and Crystal. Not something that could be just discarded.

  Even after the fight with Captain, he had deluded himself that he would be able to stick around, work on developing the carpentry workshop, maybe take on an apprentice. But now? If he survived whatever was coming, there wouldn’t be a thread in his cut he could hold on to.

  His and Zak’s safe haven had been defiled, a fact that left him empty inside, as if everything he trusted in was to be stomped on and crushed. At least they didn’t hurt Zak any further. He needed to keep strong and let them go through with whatever they considered necessary so he could return to his family in one piece.

  Gator sat on an old cement block on the other side of the fire, smoking a cigarette with a thoughtful expression. Stitch kept silent, not even trying to defy all the homophobic slurs that had been thrown at him since they left Zak’s house, ignoring the slaps and kicks. It would be over sooner this way. It seemed that everyone was waiting for Captain, who had walked off several minutes ago.

  “So, are you a woman, or is he?” came from Jynx, one of the younger guys on the team, who had already launched two kicks at Stitch’s kidneys when Gator wasn’t looking.

  “There is no pussy in our relationship,” Stitch groaned through gritted teeth. He wished they wouldn’t have left him naked, but complaining would only make this more humiliating.

  “You’re the pussy!” snapped Jynx. A powerful blow to Stitch’s side tipped him over into t
he gravel. Stitch barely stopped himself from hissing in pain as the little, sharp stones dug into his flesh. It felt as if his thigh just got mauled

  “'Relationship'? You're getting married next?” Gator bit on the cigarette in his mouth, his face tensing into the resemblance of the animal he was named after.

  Stitch didn’t react whatsoever to Jynx’s attack. It looked like Stitch was fair game to anyone. Stitch looked up at Gator and squinted. He clenched his fists with all the pent up aggression he was stuck holding in. “I am an outlaw. I do whatever the fuck I want.” He turned to Jynx and looked straight into the flat eyes that reflected the guy’s latent stupidity. “If I want to, I get fucked up the ass.”

  The sudden silence lasted for a whole three seconds during which Jynx’s face went from stunned to rabid. He kicked Stitch’s ass with all he had, making him lose his breath. “Yeah? You want that? I can give you a fuckstick from that bonfire. Would you like that?”

  “How old are you, you little fucktard?” Stitch looked back at him, trying to establish his position even if he was lying naked in the dirt. “You wanna touch my ass, is that it?”

  Someone snorted in the background, giving Stitch a tiny glimmer of satisfaction. Stitch did hope his face wouldn’t end up in the gravel though. The opposite happened. Gravel shot up to his face as Jynx kicked the ground, sending the little stones his way. By sheer luck Stitch managed to close his eyes in time, but the dust got into his nose, and he choked up, coughing.

  “Give it a rest. Captain’s coming,” said Gator, and only now Stitch heard the roar of a motorcycle engine. He turned around, and his heart sunk at the sight of his own bike. It looked alien with Captain riding it. It felt like moto-rape or some shit.

  Stitch remained silent, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing his anguish, but that bike had to be here for a purpose, and that fact was already making his gut clench. He remained on his side, watching Captain get off. Their eyes only met for a moment when Captain kicked the bike hard, and it toppled over into the gravel with a scream of damaged metal. Stitch couldn’t believe they’d do something like this.