Switch & Burn (Royal Bastards MC : Idaho Springs Chapter)

by Bink Cummings

  He pats my ass. “You ‘bout ready to get out?”

  Without having to think about it, my brain rejects the idea.

  No.

  I…

  No.

  Reading me as he always does, Burn chuckles and massages the space between my brows with his thumb, smoothing the wrinkles out. “You could tell me no, kid. I’ll stay; however long you want.”

  Sitting up straighter, I card a hand through my wet hair and nod.

  Okay. Then we stay. In here, with the steam, away from the brothers. Sounds perfect to me.

  Out of nowhere, my roommate flicks my nipple and laughs like the devil. Fighting off my own smile, I scowl instead and swat his hand away.

  The brute does the same to the other.

  What do I do?

  I retaliate. Giving him a dose of his own medicine with a vengeance.

  First one nipple, then the other, lighter as to not hurt him. He lets me, laughing the entire time. It booms off the shower walls and collides with my heart like a bulldozer.

  I look down… Still doing my best not to smile and…

  I’m…

  I’m…

  No!

  Scrambling off Burn’s lap, I cover myself down there with both hands.

  No!

  This can’t be happening.

  He’s gonna think…

  Embarrassed beyond words, I escape the shower, skid across the floor with bare feet, and hit the damn countertop hard. But it doesn’t go down.

  Oh. My. God.

  I’m…

  This can’t be happening! Not like this.

  I grab a towel from the cupboard and dry myself as I run from the bathroom, afraid of what he’s gonna say. What he’ll think.

  Why did it have to happen now?

  I didn’t mean it.

  I swear I didn’t mean it.

  Hiding under the covers of my bed, I curl into a ball on my side.

  My nose burns before the first tear flows.

  What is wrong with me? They did this, didn’t they? Remy… He made me this way. He made me a fucking fag. It’s because of the medicine I took for him, isn’t it? The blue pills. They made me like this.

  In the basement, I was numb.

  In the darkness, this never happened.

  But Remy, he liked when I was…

  Fuck. I can’t even stomach the words.

  Now Burn’s gonna think I’m a fag.

  I’m not. I promise I’m not.

  I’ve never been attracted to a man before. Not—

  “Switch?”

  Snot running down my face, coating my pillow, I tremble.

  They made me do it. They made me do it. I didn’t mean to be this way. I promise. I promise. I fucking promise! Those assholes made me do it! I didn’t like it. It didn’t feel good. It never felt good. Not like… When I’m with you. I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t send me away. Please. I will do better. I’ll be better!

  “Switch.” The covers on my bed are pulled back. Standing beside the bed naked, with water still dripping down his form is Burn.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, afraid to look at him.

  “Aw, Switch, don’t do this shit. It’s okay.” His words are soft and it hurts all the worse to hear them.

  He saw it.

  He saw me.

  It’s not okay.

  I whip my head back and forth.

  He sighs. “Jesus Christ, kid, it’s okay. You get one every time I give you a massage.”

  Fuck.

  He knows.

  He found out.

  “If you’re gay, it’s fine. If you’re not, that’s okay, too. I’m never gonna get mad over a boner.”

  I’m not gay.

  I’m not.

  I just… I…

  I look at you, and I feel and I… I want to touch…No. No!

  “Switch. Come on. Stop. You’re shaking. I’m not mad. You need to look at me. Please.”

  I break for him. I look because I’ll do anything he asks.

  Still standing at the side of my bed, Burn bends to wipe the tears from my eyes, wetness shimmering in his own. “Good. No more crying. I can’t take it. You. Me. We’re good.” God, that voice. Why is it so different? Why does it sound like that? Why is my stomach doing that shit again?

  He sits on the edge of my bed, turned just enough he can still see my face and I his. “Are you attracted to men?”

  No. Never.

  I shake my head.

  His bobs in slow comprehension. “Okay. Have you ever… you know… been with anyone before, of your own free will?”

  Again, I shake my head.

  I was too young to lose my virginity before they took me. There were no girls where I went. It was all boys. Me and Diego, at first. We were friends, sure, but we were there to survive. Nothing more.

  Burn’s face twists into an ugly grimace. “Not once?”

  I won’t lie and say it doesn’t feel a little good for him to be angry on my behalf. It means he cares. Not that I’ve ever questioned that before. His actions always speak louder than words.

  Another head shake for his benefit.

  “Not even a blowjob? A handy?”

  Same response as before.

  For a generous moment, Burn unleashes a torrent of colorful curses under his breath before replying, “Ah hell… Is it fair for me to say you were taken against your will, by men?”

  A nod.

  Looking through our large window, he takes in the deepest breath and pats the outside of my thigh in reassurance. “You know you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

  I nod. The thing is, I want to. I want to tell him everything. I want him to know it all. But I can’t open my mouth to say it. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for that.

  Once he’s sure he hasn't pushed me too far, Burn continues the questioning. “Your only experience with sex is with your rapists?”

  A nod.

  And just like that, the air in the room changes as does Burn’s expression. He grips the edge of the mattress as both pecs flex before the same tension overtakes his abs.

  “This is really startin’ to piss me off,” he grits, then gulps a lungful of air, and blows it out between firm lips before speaking again. “I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry you had to go through that shit. This…”

  He shoots to his feet, hands fisted at his sides, ass to me. “Gah! I’m… I wanna hit something. You shouldn’t have been touched! You shouldn’t have been violated! This… Fuck!” Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he cracks his neck from side to side, like he wants to fight.... like he has to. I know the desire well.

  “This… I don’t think I can know more. I don’t want to.” Rolling his shoulders, Burn turns to face me. His cock sways with every movement, balls heavy underneath. I notice when I shouldn’t. Just as I watch the spark of fury in his eyes, I want nothing more than to fix it. I didn’t intend to put it there. We’ve been through enough today, the two of us. My past is my past. Not my future. It’s over with.

  Except Burn doesn’t look like he’s even close to being through. He inclines his head. “Those scars are from them, aren’t they? They beat you before they raped you, didn’t they?” An icy wave of malice hits me hard in the face as I nod… Wanting to confess to him that, at first, it wasn’t bad. At first, they were nice. It hurt, but it wasn’t awful. When I was a boy, that is. Before puberty. Before, they tossed me away like trash. Before the demon was born.

  “Sonofabitch!” he explodes. “Who are they, Switch? Did you tell Bonez who did this to you? ‘Cause I’m gonna kill ‘em. I’m gonna string ‘em up by their tiny dicks and make ‘em hurt. Hurt so fuckin’ bad for even thinkin’ about touching you.”

  BURN

  I need to find them! Call everyone in the club and hunt them down!

  They touched him.

  I knew he had a past. Knew he was raped. But knowing versus seeing him admit the truth are two very different sides of the same coin.
They tainted what’s mine! They put their dicks inside of him and did so without his permission. They…

  Motherfucker!

  I gotta hit something.

  I gotta… I gotta do something.

  Argh!

  To regain control… I pace.

  And pace.

  And fucking pace.

  Switch ran ‘cause he had a boner. I knew why the second he took off. Thing is, he’d had the damn thing the entire time he was touching my scars. Making noises in his throat that took every ounce of control for me not to listen to in fear of what might happen. I’ve never been affected by anyone like this before. Not once. It’s not attraction. Not lust or desire. It’s something else entirely. I don’t like men. Don’t find them appealing. Don’t want to hold them or make sure they’re okay. I sure as hell don’t want to share my life with them or eat naked for every meal in their presence. From day one, I knew the kid was different. I should’ve known then what it meant. Should have seen the writing on the goddamn wall.

  Did you know when he’s hard, his mushroom head gets redder and redder, and that same redness travels down his pale shaft? It’s… Shit… I dunno… But it’s not something I should be observing. Shouldn’t be something I like.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Too enraged to see straight, I don’t notice Switch standing in front of me until I gotta look up to see his face. Tendrils of red hair fall onto his forehead. I wring my fingers together behind my back, jaw clenching, as I force myself not to touch it. Not to brush it to the side. Not to…

  This isn’t good.

  I take a step backward to give myself room to breathe. To keep his nakedness away from my own. It never bothered me like this before. My skin’s all itchy and too tight. I’m not sure if I wanna fight or fuck or… I wanna fight. Definitely fight.

  Standing his ground, no longer the picture of anxiety, Switch cocks his head to the side, appraising me. That damn hair shifts again and the urge to touch it becomes even more powerful.

  Cracking my neck, I flex my fingers and move from one foot to the other. More watching comes from his end. This is when I wish he’d talk. When I wish we could communicate better. To hear his voice would be nice.

  “We need food,” I comment to fill the silence.

  A slight incline of his head is all the reaction I get.

  “I’m gonna feed us.” I thumb to the door.

  Another incline from Switch, eyes still on me, ever watching, makin’ me wanna scratch my skin clean off.

  Too wound up to be any use in our kitchen, I skate by the kid and grab a pair of jeans from the dresser. “We’re good. I’m not mad at you. Need to get some air. Just gonna get us food. Be back in a bit,” I rattle off as I finish zipping up and slip my feet into a pair of boots sans socks. Hell, I don’t even bother lacing them up when I clomp to the door, refusing to look back in fear of what I might see.

  I need space.

  A tiny bit. Nothing more.

  Time to accept whatever this is and get a sandwich in both our bellies. He hasn’t eaten since the fight and neither have I. We’re busted up and wore out. Late night snackage and sleep will do us both a world of good. It should help screw my head on straight.

  “See ya soon.” I wave a half-assed goodbye over my shoulder and get on with things.

  Music pulses as I enter the central space of the clubhouse. Women in various stages of undress parade around, dancing on tables, fucking brothers on the couches, givin’ blowies, and doin’ whatever it is they do. Everyone who notices me walk in, gives me a wide berth, still not sure how I’m gonna act after they roughed the kid up. Truth is, I’ve been too focused on Switch and this rape shit I almost forgot about the disloyalty. Might’ve given them a pass, had bruises not formed and his wrists not been chewed up. We’ll deal with that later. Food first.

  In the kitchen, I steal a fresh platter of turkey roll-up sandwich things and a bag of chips. I take my time getting it around, not wanting to get back too soon.

  Setting the stuff on the counter to carry up later, I snag a beer from the fridge and rest my ass against the cupboards to take a load off. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply and exhale before I take a long swig of the bitter stuff. The ice-cold liquid feels nice sliding down my throat as I do my best to reconfigure whatever jumbled mess I’ve got goin’ on in this damn head of mine.

  A club whore, clearly drunk out of her mind, wanders into the kitchen topless with red lipstick smeared across her cheek. Barefoot and friendly, she waves at me before breaking into the biggest grin as she attempts to saunter my way. It’s comical at best, pathetic at worst.

  Without bothering to introduce herself, the short-haired brunette drops to her knees at my feet and goes straight for the goods with both hands. Taking a second swig of beer, I swat her advances away from my fly. “Not open for business.”

  Too deaf or dumb to pay a lick of attention to what I’ve said, she attempts the impossible again. This time, I’m not so nice when I seize her wrist and throw it back at her. “Dick. Is. Off. Limits.”

  Nose whistles from the doorway. “Come on, sweetness. He don’t want those lips.” In horny fucker fashion, the man opens his fly for her and jangles the half-hard goods for Ms. Drunk to suck on. And wouldn’t ya know it, the whore takes the bait.

  Crawling on all fours, she advances on my brother and suckles his knob like a calf on its mother’s teat. He pets her hair as she moans, fitting every inch in her mouth.

  “Sorry ‘bout that.” Nose chin lifts. I do the same in return before walking over to the sink and pouring the rest of my brew down the drain. That’s my cue to get back to Switch. If it’s not this club whore trying to get at my cock, it’ll be another. When the bitches are drunk, they care less and less about the burns and more and more about the VP status. Since anyone could fuck my piece of shit father, I’m the prize to be won. Though, the hunt doesn’t happen often. Not when you’ve got better-looking brothers to pick from.

  Nose maneuvers his blowjob action out of the doorway for me to pass. Gathering the goods, I deliver a parting chin lift as I exit the kitchen and ignore the rest of the clubhouse antics as I return to our bedroom, where I find a still naked Switch sitting on the side of his bed, waiting.

  “Sorry, it took so long. Hope you’re hungry.” I kick my boots off as I go and set the tray in the center of our table.

  Switch joins me a moment later. Sitting in his chair and me in mine, but not before I discard the jeans. I drop them on the floor beside my feet and dig in.

  Like every other day, the silence is comfortable. Not tainted by his explosion tonight or the violence from the brothers. Not by thoughts of Switch’s erection or his past. It’s us and food. We chew, we swallow, we relax. It’s simple.

  The more we consume, the better I feel. The turkey somehow fills a hollowness I didn’t know I had. Or maybe that’s me coming to terms with shit…

  I look up from my snack to catch Switch staring at me. His fingers are messy, as are mine. I didn’t think to use napkins or plates. Oh well.

  He smiles. It’s light and meant for me. If only I knew what he was thinking.

  This kid… man… has been through fucking hell, and yet he still smiles like that. Real, despite the bruising on his face or the busted lip.

  For years, I bet he never smiled a genuine smile. Maybe never at all.

  What a shame.

  Warmth encases my heart as I watch Switch’s cheeks pinken and he looks away. Taking another bite, he swallows, overlooking the starry sky. An even smaller, more private smirk ticks at the corner of his mouth. And I’m, once again, wishing I could see inside his thoughts, even for a moment.

  What if what he confessed tonight was true? If he’s never experienced anything with anyone before, then he had to have been young when taken into whatever sex slavery bullshit he was in. I don’t know anyone who didn’t get at least a handy from a chick around fourteen. Think about it… If Switch hasn’t experien
ced the sex stuff, which I sure as hell ain’t capable of helping with, then what else hasn’t he experienced? Stuff like…

  “Hey, Switch, you ever ridden on a motorcycle before?”

  Wiping the back of his hand across his lips, my roomie gives me a funny look like he doesn’t understand why I’m asking.

  When I still don’t get a firm yes or no, I probe again. “Have you?”

  A short and confused shake of the head.

  Perfect.

  And just like that, I’ve got a plan. Sure, I can’t hunt and kill the bastards who gave Switch those scars. At least not tonight, I can’t. What I can do is give him a life beyond the lodge walls. Beyond the ring. We’ve spent months training. Even I haven’t left the compound since he got here. It’s about damn time we do something else for once.

  Tomorrow’s a new day.

  Let’s shake shit up.

  6

  SWITCH

  Tank dances around the ring, light on his feet for a giant. He fakes left and I read his body language like an open book. Throwing my weight behind it, I spin and land a hard elbow to the gut.

  “Fuck,” he groans, doubling over to rub the tenderness.

  ‘Cause I feel a sick sort of satisfaction when I strike my trainer, I smile. It’s cocky and taunting all in the same breath, making the big guy chuckle despite the pain. “Anyone told you before that you’re a dick?”

  I shrug, still smiling.

  A whistle slices through the air and we both look over to find Burn headed our way. He eyes Nose and Raff working on machines nearby, glowers, then flicks his attention back to the ring. Guess he hasn’t worked his issues out with the rest of the brotherhood, yet. When he found out Tank wasn’t part of my beat down yesterday, he said I could train bright and early as usual.

  My trainer steps up to the ropes and rests his giant forearms on the top, elbows out. “Can I help ya, brother?” Sweat soaks through the back of his t-shirt, outlining every inch of his bulk.

  “You can’t. He can.” Burn, wearing a pair of holey jeans, a long-sleeve shirt, and his motorcycle vest points to me with nothing more than his gaze. “Get a shower in the locker room, Switch. We’ve got shit to do.”